Sympathy
by hotstuffhufflepuff
Summary: Fred is sick of pretending that everything is okay, and he finds sympathy in the last person he expected to. [Fremione. AU/EWE. Post-War. Rated M for language, innuendos, and implications.] [DISCLAIMER: I don't own Harry Potter. If I did, I probably wouldn't be here.]
1. Chapter 1

Fred Weasley was...unhappy.

It was odd. He'd always been so sure of himself. After the war ended, he'd been given money, fame, women – everything he'd ever thought he wanted. Everything somebody needed to be happy. But the days seemed to melt together, until his entire life was just a blur of uncertainty, and secrets and he lost himself. It had been five years, and everyone else seemed so...blissful. The _Daily Prophet _published weekly updates on the Weasleys' personal lives, making everything so painfully exhilarating – Harry bought a brand new silverware set? How galvanizing! Ginny wore a new dress? How exquisite! Pictures of the Chosen One and his fiancee were plastered everywhere, along with Ron and Hermione, Molly and Arthur, and every other Weasley or Hogwarts alumni that had survived. They were all so sickeningly happy.

Fred knew it was bullshit.

They would write verbose paragraphs about what kind of shoes Ron wore, but there was never one word about how many nights Fred had woken up to the sound of his own screams. They never talked about how frequently Harry fainted from the intensity of his flashbacks. They were more concerned about why Ron hadn't proposed to Hermione yet than the fact that Hermione wore sweaters everywhere she went to hide her 'mudblood' scar.

The worst part was that nobody else would talk about it, either. They were all so eager to forget that the war ever happened that it almost became sinful to bring it up. It was all one giant game of pretend. They were all so busy being war heroes and celebrities, they forgot that they were human beings, too.

And Fred felt so alone.

* * *

They were at a pretentiously grandiose party thrown by the Ministry to celebrate Harry and Ginny's engagement (much to Harry's dismay – he'd wanted something small, but there were witches and wizards that even Molly didn't recognize), and Fred was in the corner with three empty bottles of firewhiskey in front of him. Tonight, he felt even more detached than usual. He tried losing himself in the alcohol, in the dancing, in the fame-hungry girls who lusted after him, but tonight, he just couldn't bear it. The party beat faster than his heart did, and he prayed for some kind of distraction from it all. He needed something to hold on to, something to remind him why he was there. So when he saw Hermione storm out of the ballroom with a face that matched his inner emotions, he followed.

He found her leaning against the balcony's railing, staring up at the sky. She had taken her hair out of its updo and her messy brown curls were now spilling over her shoulders. She had also discarded her gold heels, and they were lying next to the doorframe in a very un-Hermione-like heap with her purse.

She had on a floor length dress made from a flowy, red material, and there was an intricate gold design snaking around her waist and up the front of her dress. He heard her sigh as she removed a gold necklace and matching earrings and tossed them next to her shoes.

He tied on his lopsided grin. "Stinks in there, doesn't it?"

She jumped at the sound of his voice, and then stiffened visibly. She wiped hurriedly at her tears and hiccuped, "I'm s-sorry, Fred, but I'm _really _not in the mood right now."

He moved forward to lean against the railing next to her. "Why the tears? Was it that bad?"

She looked away. At that moment, with the moonlight highlighting her silhouette and her eyelashes glistening with tears, Fred couldn't breathe.

"It's stupid. I'd much rather be alone right now, Fred..."

He nudged her, and she turned sharply, fully prepared to tell him off – but once she saw his grin (somehow assuring her that it'd be all right), something in her eyes softened.

"I guess – I just wanted one night..." She took a breath and looked up at the stars again. "...just one night...that Ron didn't ruin. But I don't know what I expected." She laughed bitterly and looked at her hands. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't be talking to you like this – about your brother, I mean."

"Why not?" Fred said, "He's got more arse in his personality than he has in his trousers, hasn't he?"

Hermione laughed in spite of herself. Fred smiled. "You look nice tonight, Hermione," He heard himself say.

She turned faintly pink, batting at her hair. "Oh – um – thank you," Still smiling, she said, "So do you."

"Are you sure?" He straightened the jacket of his tux, making a face that was a mix between a smile and a grimace. She laughed again, but he could tell that whatever Ron had said was leaking back into her mind.

"It's so exhausting, trying to please him all the time." She said. She spoke so softly, Fred got the impression that she'd never told anyone this before. "It's never good enough for him. Nothing ever is. He ruins everything."

"Why don't you break up with him?" Fred asked.

"It's not that simple," Hermione said. "Everyone expects us to get married, don't they? The _Daily Prophet..._your mother...the entire Wizarding world. I can't just end it because _I'm _unhappy."

"Why not?" said Fred. "I mean – Merlin, Hermione – you're bloody brilliant. You're beautiful – look at you! You deserve someone who knows that."

She smiled, but it was a sad, resigned smile. "It's complicated."

Fred sighed in exasperation. "Hermione, I've been miserable for years. I don't know how to fix it. But if you can do something about your misery, why aren't you?"

"I never said I was - " She stopped herself, then bit her lip and looked down. Sighing, she said, "I should probably get back inside, but I really, really don't want to."

"Why not?"

"I've been pretending to be okay for the cameras for years, but tonight, I don't think I can bring myself to do it."

Fred's heart ached, but in a way that he'd missed.

His voice a hoarse whisper, he said, "Me too."

They both sat silently, each achingly grateful for the other. He wanted desperately to look at her again, but he kept his on the stars because he didn't know what would happen if he did look at her, and because he was terrified, because he hadn't felt anything in so long.

"Fred?" She whispered.

"Hermione,"

Her voice cracked when she spoke. "I wish you had found me sooner."

He couldn't bear it any longer. When he looked at her, he found that she was crying again, but it was different now. Her eyes were lit.

And before either of them could really comprehend, their lips were crashing together, and his hands were traveling up her waist, and hers were running through his hair. He fumbled around for his wand, and once he found it in his jacket pocket, there was a crack – they were in his flat above the shop. He led her to his bedroom. She was unbuttoning his shirt and he was unzipping her dress, and Merlin, he wanted her. Every inch of her. At that moment, they were both nothing but themselves. She was not the Golden Girl. She was not the war hero. He was not another member of the Weasley clan or an infamous joker. She was just Hermione, and he was just Fred. And that was something they hadn't been for a long time.

They shed their masks, and they shed their clothes, and for the first time in five years, Fred Weasley felt happy.

* * *

Then morning came.

Hermione's head was pounding. Groaning, she tried to remember how much firewhiskey she'd had last night.

The person next to her stirred, and then, there was a string of profanities as Fred fell out of his bed and hurriedly stepped into his pants.

She sat up quickly, and instantly regretted it. Her hand flew to her head and she groaned again.

"Shit. Shit, shit, shit." Fred whispered. "Are – um – are you okay?"

"I'm fine." She said, burying her face in the pillow again. "It's just a hangover."

"I'll get you coffee," He muttered. He rushed out of the bedroom.

Hermione sighed. How could she have been so stupid? She was screwed.

A few minutes later, she worked up the courage to venture out of the bedroom and into the flat. She found Fred in the kitchen with his head in his hands.

"I should leave," She said awkwardly.

"No," He said, placing a mug in front of her and grinning, albeit weakly. "Don't you know how suspicious that would look? Both of us mysteriously disappearing from the party and then you leaving my apartment at eight in the morning, hungover, messy, and looking super satisfied?"

She glared at him. "What do you want me to do, then?" She hissed. "You said you were sick of pretending."

"It can't change overnight," He retorted, resisting the urge to lean over and tuck a lock of her hair behind her ear. Sighing, he said, "Listen. Last night was...great. Phenomenal. But...in the morning, you're still my brother's girlfriend. And it's like you said last night...it's too complicated for you to just end it with him."

"So..." She pursed her lips, staring into her drink. She wished he'd put a shirt on. "We just pretend this never happened?"

He sighed, ignoring the ache in his heart. "I guess so."

* * *

That afternoon, Hermione found herself back at the Burrow. Now looking as fresh as ever, she kissed a very hungover Ron on the cheek and passed out the excuse that she'd left the party early because she felt sick and had gone out early that morning to grocery shop.

Setting her grocery bags on the counter, she began to unpack them. The fake smile was back. The routine was back. The pretending was back.

It made her want to scream.

Ron grumbled, "I'm going to take a nap," And he stalked up the stairs like a zombie.

Life went back to the same painstaking normality it had been before. As far as the entire world was concerned, nothing had changed.


	2. Chapter 2

Weeks passed.

Fred tried desperately to pretend that nothing had changed. Nobody noticed anything, and there were even moments when he had himself convinced, but whenever he wasn't tied up in working, his mind would wander back to that night.

He told himself he was being stupid. And he was. She was his brother's girlfriend. It was true that he and Hermione had shared completely raw emotions and that connected them in an unparalleled way, but it didn't mean anything. It couldn't. He was being so, so, _so _stupid.

At the weekly Weasley dinner, Hermione avoided making eye contact with Fred, no matter how long he stared at her. He thought she was laughing less than usual, but he told himself that she'd always been uptight. Clenching his teeth, he told himself he needed to stop focusing on her so bloody much.

They'd had one night to let it out. Just that one night. Fred knew that it was time to go back to distracting himself with girls, with booze, with parties – anything that made him forget about his brother's bloody girlfriend. Anything that made him forget about Hermione. Anything that made him forget himself.

As the days passed, they began to melt together again. Fred could feel his sanity slipping through his fingers again and he felt so unbelievably hopeless, but he couldn't try to stop it if he wanted to. So faking the smiles got easier again. Pretending started to come naturally again. Whatever raw emotions Hermione had dug up were buried again, and Fred let himself pretend they didn't exist.

Hermione seemed like she was forgetting too. Slowly, her laugh came back. At first, Fred thought he saw her flinch ever so slightly every time Ron touched her, but either he'd been making it up or she got used to it again, because her ease and grace came back.

If he let it, he knew it would only make him miss her more.

_/ Three and a half months later /_

Fred didn't really know who he expected to find banging on his door at eleven o'clock on a Thursday night, but whoever it was, it certainly wasn't Hermione Granger. Once he took in all five feet, five inches of her perpetual indignation and her messy brown curls, he leaned against the door frame and smirked at her over his bowl of cereal. "Hello, Granger," He drawled.

She raised her gaze to meet his and with a start, he noticed that her eyes were red and puffy.

"Oh, geez - what's wrong? What happened?" He spun around to discard his bowl of cereal on the counter and then again to usher her inside.

The moment the door closed, she blurted, "I told Ron." Before he could say anything, she added, "I didn't say it was you. I just told him - well, you know - what I...what I did."

"So he broke up with you," Fred said sadly. "Listen, Herm - "

"I never said that.

"Wha - ?"

"I broke up with him. After I told him I'd slept with somebody, he confessed to having had multiple sexual encounters with other women over the years, which of course the tabloids frequently reported but I frequently ignored because they always misreport everything, but they had to be right about this one thing, I suppose, and I guess I - I don't really know what I expected." She said, blinking back the tears. She hurriedly continued, "I'm standing in the flat of my now ex-boyfriend's brother, whom I slept with, complaining about said ex-boyfriend for his infidelities. Wow. This is what my life has come to."

"Hermione, just - "

"You know what? This was a mistake. I shouldn't have come here and I'm - I'm sorry. Okay?"

She spun around to grab the doorknob but at the same moment, Fred grabbed her wrist, crying out, "Granger, wait!"

They both froze, and after a tense moment of silence, Hermione shattered, and her body quivered with sobs.

Softly, and taking a slow step towards her, Fred said, "You can stay here tonight, okay? We'll figure something out, Hermione."

"How could I have done this to Harry and Ginny?" She cried. "Right before their wedding? The tabloids are going to go crazy."

"No, no, no..." Fred whispered. "We'll keep this quiet, okay? You can have a job working at the joke shop with George 'n' me. We need some help anyway."

"Fred..."

"You can say that you moved out to be closer to work or - or something. I don't know. We'll figure something out. It's going to be okay, Hermione. Okay?"

Wordlessly, she nodded, threw her arms around his torso, and sobbed into his chest.

/

"Er - Fred?"

"Mm," Fred groaned. "Mm?"

"Fred, wake up."

"Nope. Sleepy." Fred nestled deeper into his makeshift bed on the living room couch and threw his arm around his pillow. "Can't."

"Fred, come on." Hermione was starting to get exasperated. He cracked one eye open and was surprised to find her holding out a mug of coffee.

"Here," She handed it to him.

"Blimey," He said, sitting up and yawning. "I think I'd rather have you as a roommate than George,"

Turning pink, but ignoring his comment, she said, "I just - uh - wanted to apologize for coming here - out of all places. It was inappropriate and - and I'm sorry."

"Eh, don't be sorry," Fred waved his hand in the air and took a sip . "It's hard to resist me."

She rolled her eyes, but appeared to be hiding a smile. "Anyway - that's all I had to say, so...I'm going to go."

"Wait!" He yelped, jumping up. "Where are you going to go? Do you have a place to stay?"

"Um - well..." She glanced around, pointedly looking everywhere in the room but at his bare chest, "Not exactly...I was thinking that I'd stay at the Leaky Cauldron for - er - about a month or so, until I - ah..."

"Don't be silly." He said, walking to the kitchen. Grinning at her, he transfigured his pajamas into his work uniform and turned to the cabinets. "We can transfigure one of the rooms into a guest room. It'll be great work commute, huh?"

"Um..." She shifted her weight uncomfortably. "You were serious about that job offer?"

"'Course I was," Fred said as he selected a bagel and took a bite. "We need help, and I don't know anyone more hardworking than Miss Hermione Granger herself,"

"Fred - this is all very sweet of you, but...I just don't think it would be that appropriate." She winced.

Feeling his stomach drop (but ignoring it), Fred said, "Oh - um. Okay. No, you're probably right anyway."

"Right. Well, uh, I should go,"

"Yeah. Um - yeah."

Awkwardly, Hermione turned to head out through the first floor of the shop. Fred followed, figuring he should probably start opening for the day anyway and mentally trying to prepare an eloquent (or, at least, Hermione-Granger-worthy) apology speech.

Down on the first floor stood Ron. Hermione froze at the platform and Fred nearly tripped over her.

"Oof - !"

"Ron." Hermione squeaked in surprise. "Um - "

"Wh - what are you doing here?" Ron sputtered.

"I - um," Hermione, thinking quickly, gestured to Fred who stood behind her. "I got a job here."

"You did?"

"Yes. Just barely signed the paperwork."

"Right - um - well," Swallowing, Ron moved his gaze to his brother. "I just came by to pick up - um - some things,"

Fred pushed past the still motionless Hermione. "Well, you certainly came to the right place! Let me show you some of our new products..." He glanced over his shoulder just in time to see Hermione dash back up to the flat with her teeth clenched and her eyes tearing up again.


	3. Chapter 3

By the time Ron left, Hermione had donned a purple robe she found in the break room and was toying with the cash register.

Fred hopped over the counter (rather unprofessionally, but Hermione let it slide.) "Sorry 'bout that," He told her. "I didn't know he was coming."

"It's fine. It's not like I'll ever be able to _avoid_ him." She said, shaking her head. "So - um - how do I open the cash register?"

"Oh, right - see, it's a Muggle cash register, but we've charmed it. It only opens for people it recognizes. I'll have to fix the charm so it recognizes you, too. No big deal. Shouldn't take long."

Hermione stepped aside and watched curiously as Fred tapped the cash register with his wand and went to work. "You know, you and George really are spectacular when it comes to coming up with things like that," She commented.

He grinned, saying, "Is that a compliment I hear, Miss Granger? If you're trying to suck up to your boss, it's working." Hermione narrowed her eyes at him, clearly unamused.

"Where is George, anyway?"

"Meh," Fred made a face. "He's been spending nights with his latest lady friend. He'll probably be here soon."

"Oh...Okay," Hermione said slowly, nodding. Before Fred could ask her what was wrong, she said, "Do you have any other robes? These ones are a little - uh, big." To prove her point, she held up her arm; the sleeve hung several inches lower than it should have.

Fred laughed. "We can soak it overnight."

"Really? Do you have a shrinking potion?"

Smirking, he said, "No. They're cotton, Granger. Cotton shrinks in water."

Hermione shut her mouth, blushing.

"Where did you even get those robes?"

"I found them in the employee break room," She answered.

"You're just making yourself right at home, aren't you?" He teased. "I'm only kidding - it's all right, I was hoping you'd end up changing your mind and staying, anyway."

She opened her mouth to ask what he meant, but at that moment, George paraded in through the front door, singing loudly and off-key.

"'_CAUSE I LOOOOOOOOVEEE YOUU_..." He swung over to the counter, taking Hermione's hand in his, "_...just the way you look ton_ - Hey! Purple's a nice color on you! Why are you wearing employee robes?"

Hermione, stifling her laughs at George's little performance, was unable to answer. Fred said, "Well, see, she's in need of a job and a place to say because she and Ron broke - um..." He glanced sideways at Hermione, whose laughter had immediately ceased at the mention of Ron.

George smiled brightly. "Well, we're glad to have you on the team! You should know, Granger, all employees have to let us test our potions and products on them - Fred told you that, didn't he?"

Hermione glanced at Fred with wide eyes. "You didn't say - "

"Only joking, Granger," George grinned, kissed Hermione's hand, and twirled over to the break room.

"He's in a good mood," Hermione noted with a raised eyebrow and a small smile. "I wonder what he did with his girl all night."

Fred gagged again. "Stop it, I'm gonna puke,"

"Fred - "

"Blow chunks,"

"Fred, stop - "

"Lose my breakfast,"

"Fred!"

The conversation dissolved into fits of laughter as George came back out in his work robes. "I heard all of that." He informed them as if they were talking about something as casual as the weather, "And just so we're all on the same page - you're right." He grinned as Hermione burst into embarrassed laughter and Fred gagged again.

Laughing maniacally, George darted through the shelves, and Fred jumped over the counter to chase him. When customers entered, Hermione instantly stopped laughing, waiting for the boys to obtain a more professional facade in the presence of guests, but they didn't. In fact, Fred skidded to a stop and tried to enlist the help of the Hogwarts teens in catching George and strangling him. She smiled and rolled her eyes, thinking, _I don't know what I expected._

* * *

Later that night, as business began to slow, George shed his purple robes and left them draped across the counter.

"Are you heading off early again?" Fred called from somewhere behind Hermione.

"Not tonight, boss," George said. His mischievous grin found its home on his face. "I was thinking the three of us close up early and head over to the Leaky Cauldron to celebrate Hermione's new job."

"I think I like the sound of that, Forge," She jumped; she hadn't noticed Fred lean against the counter right beside her.

He reached into his back pocket for his wand. He flicked it once, and the shelves quickly restocked themselves, the lights dimmed, and the doors swung closed.

"Let's head out the back," Fred said happily. He didn't notice Hermione raise her eyebrows, impressed at his little display of magic, before following the twins out.

* * *

Hermione stepped into the pub, laughing at something Fred and George were saying. All three coworkers stopped in their tracks when they saw Ron seated cozily at the corner table with a miss Lavender Brown. The two shared a shocked look before quickly heading for the exit, pushing past Hermione on their way out. "I'm sorry," Ron muttered to her under his breath, just loud enough for her (and Fred, unbeknownst to the younger Weasley) to hear.

Hermione's jaw clenched. Fred tried to mentally prepare different (platonic) things he could say to her in order to make her feel better.

"So," George said, obliviously cheerful, "Butterbeer all around?"

"Sounds good to - "

"Actually," Hermione interrupted, the indignation bright in her eyes, "Make it a firewhiskey for me, George."

* * *

"Easy, easy..." Fred said, wincing. Hermione had one arm latched around his neck and the other was gripping his arm just a little too tightly. He and George had managed to assist their highly inebriated friend from the Leaky Cauldron to the back door of Weasley's Wizard Wheezes, but the unlikely trio were now faced with the unforeseen obstacle of the staircase to the flat.

"You go on up, George," Fred said, unhooking Hermione from his neck, "I'll take care of this one."

Shrugging, George galloped up the stairs and into the flat. Hermione swiveled her head to look up at Fred. "Looks like it's just you and me," She said, hiccupping.

Instead of responding, Fred scooped her up bridal style, which made her shriek.

"Fred," She said, grabbing at his chest and looking at him with wide eyes, "I can't feel the floor."

"That's all right," He said soothingly as he climbed the stairs. "Just be quiet, okay? You're going to wake the whole neighborhood."

She sighed contentedly and nuzzled into him, breathing rather deliberately. Fred carried her into the living room and draped her over the couch. "Go to sleep, okay?" He kneeled in front of her and brushed her hair out of her face. She looked up to study him, and for just a moment, Fred knew that she wasn't okay as he'd thought she was. He stood and started to trudge towards the doorway, trying to break his thoughts from her.

"Wait," She whimpered, reaching out for him, "Don't go, Fred. Please stay."

After only half a moment's hesitation, Fred made himself comfortable at the other end of the couch with her legs draped over his. He traced shapes on her back with his pointer finger and hummed any Muggle song he could think of in the hopes that it'd help her get to sleep easier.

"Fred?" She spoke.

"Hmm?"

"I don't _get _you."

"What's that mean?" He asked, turning to look at her. She had her hair splayed out around her, framing her face, and she was staring at the wall blankly.

"It's frustrating, you know, because I'm usually rather good at _getting _people, but you're different. You _act _like you know how brilliant and handsome and fun you are, but when you're alone, you don't _actually _know it." She yawned. "Say, Fred, what did you lose?"

She craned her neck to look at him, and even from where he sat in the dark, he could see her glazed-over brown eyes boring into his. "What makes you think I've lost something?" He asked hoarsely.

"Because you've changed. You used to be - oh, I don't know. Careless, reckless, spontaneous...Not that you're no longer a joy to be around, because I do rather enjoy your company, but you're so _sad. _It makes me _sad." _

"Why in Merlin's name would my sadness make you sad?" He murmured. He didn't know why he was carrying on this conversation with her when she probably wouldn't even remember it come morning. Maybe it was better that way. He told himself that talking to her would help her get to sleep easier, but deep down, he knew that it was he who needed this, not her.

"Because, Fred," She said, almost in a tone of exasperation, "You're my _friend."_

He didn't notice himself smiling. "You never answered, Fred. What did you lose?"

Fred laughed out loud. "Merlin, Hermione, even when you're drunk, you're as stubborn as a hippogriff."

"Answer me," She whined.

"Fine. I guess...I guess I lost myself."

"Oh _no._" She cooed. "What a horrible thing to lose. I can help you find it. It might be in the Room of Requirement...A lot of lost things go there."

"I don't think it's there, Hermione,"

"Well, not with _that _attitude."

And with that, she was asleep.

Fred went back to rubbing her back, and began to count how many times she flinched in her sleep. By the time he closed his eyes, he'd gotten to nine.


	4. Chapter 4

"Bloody hell!"

Fred bolted awake to find his twin standing in the hallway in his pajamas, grinning at him.

"Oh, come off it," Fred said, swatting the air, groaning. "Nothing happened...She just asked me to stay. Think she was scared or something."

George raised his eyebrows and moved to the kitchen. "And that's precisely why she's curled up against you and your hand is resting on her rear, is it?"

Fred snatched his hand away as if Hermione was on fire. Somehow, she had flipped in the middle of the night, and her head was now resting on his chest. At Fred's movement, she began to stir.

"Shit," Fred said under his breath. He tried to scoot away, but she was already looking up at him.

"Merlin, Fred," She groaned, shrinking away from him. "Why is it always _you?" _

::::

A week passed uneventfully.

Although, the truth of that statement depends on your definition of "uneventful."

There were multiple occasions when customers would have to tap Fred on the shoulder to regain his attention because he was too busy smiling at the back of Hermione's head. There were exactly three moments where he and Hermione caught each other's gaze, and she would hurriedly look away in a vain attempt to hide a smile that she couldn't control. There were several incidences where the sound of his voice startled her enough to make her jump.

If you asked Fred and Hermione, the red would creep onto their faces as they hotly denied everything.

If you asked George, he would laugh, slap you on the back, and invite you into the back to tell you everything.

::::

Fred awoke the next Sunday morning to the unmistakable sound of dishes clattering. He rolled over and propped his head up on his hand, listening now to an even more unusual sound. I remember when rock was young...Me and Suzy had so much fun...

He swung his legs to the floor and tilted his head as he listened.

Holding hands and skimming stones...

His curiosity heightened, Fred entered the kitchen just as he heard the words, But the biggest kick I ever got...

He stopped at the end of the hallway once he realized what was going on. Hermione was in the kitchen with the previous night's dishes in the sink. The music was blasting from an odd device with the time (7:12 A.M.? Fred thought. Blimey, she gets up early!) and speakers and another Muggle tool Fred immediately recognized as an ePod. But the oddest part of the entire ordeal wasn't any of the Muggle devices or how the singer was now belting out something about a crocodile – it was Hermione, dancing and twirling and singing at the top of her lungs.

Fred couldn't help but smile. He'd never seen her so...so...fun. So careless. So...free. He was so focused on her, and how messy her hair was, and how much he wanted to run his fingers through it again, that he didn't notice as she finally realized his presence.

"Fred!" She shrieked. "Um – I – I didn't...Did I wake you? You can go back to sleep. I'll be quiet."

"No." He lied. "I was about to ask if you knew we had spells that could wash those dishes, but then I realized who I was talking to." He smirked and she rolled her eyes, but she was smiling. "Haven't seen you dance like that since the Yule Ball," He commented.

Her face flushed. "You – you saw that?"

"Yup." He stepped into the kitchen and tilted his head again to listen. "Hmm. Muggle music?"

"Yes. Elton John."

"Why's he singing about a crocodile?"

"It's not – um. See, the song is called Crocodile Rock."

It wasn't more than a few seconds until Fred was dancing next to her, and she was laughing, and then protesting – but soon enough, he'd roped her into dancing with him again. She was throwing her head back, laughing, and he was twirling her around, and Crocodile Rock melted into Hey Jude, which melted into Friday I'm In Love, and finally, her ePod chose Can't Help Falling In Love.

Fred dropped a hand to her waist and pulled her into a slow dance. She smiled, but she was obviously flustered. "I can change the song, Fred," She told him. "We can choose something more upbeat."

"Nah," Fred smiled back. "Who sings this one?"

"Elvis Presley."

"I like him."

"Me too. He's one of my favorites. My dad used to listen to him a lot. He's called the King, you know,"

"Your dad?"

She laughed. "No, Elvis Presley. It's a shame that you wizards don't listen to much Muggle music. I tried to get Ron to - " She stopped abruptly, shaking her head. "Um – I'm sorry."

"Don't be sorry." He said, his voice low. "It's my fault."

"It's not your fault, Fred."

"Yes, it is. I was the one who..." He trailed off. They hadn't talked about it, and he wasn't sure if bringing it up would be wise. Would she get mad? Would she get mad enough to leave? He didn't want her to leave. Merlin, he didn't want her to leave.

"Fred," She said softly. "It was both of us. We both made a mistake, but..." Nodding slowly, as if reassuring herself of the truth of what she was saying, she said, "I don't think I regret it. Breaking up with Ron, I mean."

His stomach knotted up. "You don't?"

"No. You were right about what you said. I wasn't happy with him. He wasn't happy with me. And despite what the tabloids might say, despite what everyone's going to say, I think I'd rather be happy. I'd rather he get the chance to fall in love with someone who..." She searched her mind for the right words. "Someone who's better suited for him, I suppose."

He didn't know what to say, so he didn't say anything. They swayed together in a small circle, and Fred felt that same aching gratitude for her. Merlin, how had he ever survived without someone like her?

The song came to a stop and so did they, but they didn't break away from each other. Fred looked down at her. She wasn't in a glamorous red dress this time. She was wearing an old flannel t-shirt and sweatpants, but he wanted her even more now than he had then. Hermione found the courage to meet his gaze, and Fred could feel his heart pounding, his stomach twisting, his lips pursing.

He wondered what she'd do if he kissed her.

She could kiss him back. She had last time. But now, she wasn't drunk and she wasn't sad, and she wasn't dating his brother. Uncertainty overwhelmed him, but it was different. With Hermione, it was always different.

He leaned closer to her ever so slightly as Elton John sang something about a long, long time, and he waited for a response.

Her eyes fluttered closed.

His ears buzzing, Elton John's words now a blur, his heart threatening to break his ribcage, he leaned in even more. Their noses were touching. Fred wanted her so badly in so many ways. He wanted to kiss her, he wanted to make her laugh, he wanted to feel her against him, and he wanted to tell her he loved her.

"Hermione! D'you have any Frank Sinatra on that iPot of yours?"

Fred and Hermione jumped back just as George entered. The back of Fred's neck was tingling where her hands hand been.

"Um – y-yeah, I think I do, George." She crossed the kitchen and as she scrolled through her music selection, Fred noticed that her hands were trembling, just like his were.


	5. Chapter 5

Fred wasn't sure how to handle their almost-kiss. Hermione used the rest of her Sunday to run errands, returning late and staying in her room until they opened shop the next day. Fred did his best to pretend he didn't care, but it cracked his heart a little. He did his best to avoid her as well, but whenever he had a free moment, his eyes would reluctantly glance around the shop to find her. And once his eyes found her, time and time again, he would bite his tongue and look away. But she didn't notice, because she _wouldn't bloody look at him. _

Shouldn't they at least talk about it? Shouldn't they at least tell the same old lie - "I'm sorry, I didn't mean for that to _almost _happen"? Was he overthinking it? Hell, had he _imagined _it?

He groaned aloud. He was turning into a bloody _Witch Weekly _magazine article.

Just as George opened his mouth to ask what was wrong, an excited buzz went through the crowd. Fred glanced up and easily spotted the ever-scarred Boy Who Lived standing near the entrance.

"Oi, Harry!" Fred called.

Grinning, Harry made his way to the counter – easily, of course, since the witches and wizards in the store were more than willing to part the crowd for him.

"Hi," Harry said, dragging a hand through his hair. "How's business?"

"Swell," George beamed. "What can we help you with?"

"Oh – I'm not here to buy anything, actually."

"Are you sure?" George asked. "You see, the famous Harry Potter, walking around with our merchandise?"

"It can only do a business good," Fred continued. Harry smiled but shook his head.

"Actually, I'm looking for Hermione. I've got to talk to her. Is she here?"

Fred's face drained. He glanced at George, but their twin telepathy must have been slightly out of sync, because George merely shrugged, his gaze still on Harry. "Sure thing," He said. He swung around and cupped his hand around his mouth – "Hermione!"

But Hermione was already rushing towards Harry. "Harry!" She gushed, throwing her arms around his neck. "What are you doing here?"

Fred didn't hear Harry's response because he was glaring at Harry's hand, which was resting on the curve of Hermione's back.

The next thing Fred knew, Hermione and Harry were in the break room and George was elbowing him in the ribs because the customer at the register had said 'hello' four times and Fred hadn't responded.

"Sorry about that," Fred said, slapping on a cheery smile, "Is this all for you today, miss?"

It was one of few moments that Fred cursed their business for being so popular. Once he'd gotten through the queue of seven waiting customers and answered one elderly woman's questions about the safety of their fireworks, he managed to perch himself outside the break room door, which had been left open just a crack.

"Look, Hermione," Harry was sighing, "You know I think you're brilliant. I believe we can get past this – as a family. You're my family, Hermione, just like the Weasleys are...But I talked to Ron about it already, and he's agreed to do this just for the wedding. After that, you two can – "

"Do you really think it would be – well – _appropriate? _After what happened?" Hermione said. Her eyes were searching Harry's face.

Harry, whose back was to Fred, folded his arms across his chest. "He's not happy about what happened either, you know. But he's doing it for Ginny. The tabloids have been saying that you two have been having problems for a while now, and if this whole thing got out right around the wedding, she'd be devastated."

Hermione dropped her gaze to the floor, staying silent.

Harry took a gentle step towards her, his hand grasping her elbow. She smiled at him, sadly and subtly. "Hermione, I think that what happened was for the best. You have to know that. I mean – to be honest, I think I always knew that you two wouldn't...wouldn't work out. But it's just bad timing. Please, consider doing this – just for the wedding. Just for Ginny."

"Okay," Hermione responded, but it was so quiet and mousey that Fred wasn't even sure he'd heard it.

"Okay?" Harry repeated.

"Yes. Tell R-Ron that...that I'll do it, but only for the wedding."

"Thanks," Harry breathed in relief, "Hermione, you're the best." He pulled her into a hug, and before Fred knew what he was doing, he was pushing the door open and striding towards the back cabinet and rummaging through supplies.

Hermione jumped out of Harry's arms, her face tinting pink. Harry nodded at Fred amiably once more before turning to go.

After a moment of silence, Fred said in his best casual conversation voice, "What was that about?"

"Oh, um – just about the wedding."

"Really?"

"What are you looking for?" She asked him, now at his side.

He immediately stopped rummaging. "Um – I forgot." He turned to face her, and as he did, her fingers brushed against his wrist – he wasn't sure if she'd done it on purpose, and he didn't want to ask.

There was so much he wanted to say. To ask. But she was beautiful, the kind that made him forget what he tried so hard to pretend he was, and she knew more than he could ever hope to know, and he was the epitome of what baned her existence.

Suddenly, her eyes fluttered close and she reached forward to grasp his hand. She squeezed his fingers (with some difficulty, since his hand was much larger than hers), an ironic smile on her face, she opened her eyes to look up at him again. He met her gaze with his bewildered look. Could he hope? Could he squeeze her hand back? What did it – ?

"I'm sorry," She whispered.

And she was gone.

* * *

After closing, George took off - again refusing to tell his twin who this mystery woman was, leaving Fred to squirm in sequestration with Hermione. He didn't want to be alone with her, but he didn't know if that was due to his embarrassment of what had happened before, or his inability to believe that he wouldn't do it again.

They settled into the couch with dinner in their laps and the Muggle telly thing Hermione'd brought with her blaring, and he was sure that she was going to ignore him. He was trying to work out what he'd say, and how he'd work confidence into his voice, and how she'd take it, but she surprised him by turning to him and pushing her hair off her shoulders.

"Harry and Ginny's wedding is in two weeks, you know, and I was _going _to ask you if you'd go with me - well, obviously you'd go with me, but I meant _with _me - erm..." She stopped herself, sighing. "Harry talked to both Ron and Ginny, and we've all come to an agreement that Ron and I will pretend to still be together until about a month after the wedding. I know it's a bit ridiculous, but this is Ginny's moment of glory - and Harry's too, I suppose - and she deserves to have it ensue flawlessly." Hermione gave a small smile, nodding to herself. "I'm...nervous, honestly. Feeling a little awkward about the entire situation, and...you're the only one who really knows...what - what happened."

Fred looked away. What was he supposed to say to that? '_Go for it, Hermione, it's all for Ginny and Harry!'_? Or maybe, '_This is your chance to make things right again between you two!' _

Or, he thought with a bitter laugh, the truth. _I'm really not comfortable with that because you're driving me mad and I really want to kiss you. _

Yeah, that would fly over impeccably.

So instead, he smiled warmly at her. "I'm sure it'll all work out." He said in a comforting tone. "Besides, it's only for a month and a half. And it's only when you're all out in public together. And it's only pretend, so it's not like you really have to..."

He trailed off, suddenly unsure if he's reassuring her or himself. She grinned at him. "And if he acts like a git, I won't hesitate to make things as difficult and awkward as I possibly can."

"Is that a vengeful streak I see, Miss Granger?" Fred feigned distate.

She laughed. "Looks like you're rubbing off on me, Mr. Weasley." She smirked. Before he could respond, she said, "I'm going to bed. I wrote you instructions in case you forget how to change the channel again - they're in the drawer over there."

He waited until he heard the distinct _click _of her door closing to bury his face in the sofa and groan loudly.


End file.
